


Happiness is a Butterfly

by SpookyMiscreant



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Peter needs therapy, Pining, Song fic, Stiles POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-29 19:26:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20801711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpookyMiscreant/pseuds/SpookyMiscreant
Summary: Stiles returns to Beacon Hills after graduation and soon finds out the reason he hasn't had to come back to fight a monster in two years is because Peter, I only care about two people in this god forsaken town, Hale linked himself to the nemeton and settled the land. But why would he do that?*the skeleton of this is Happiness is a Butterfly by Lana del Rey*





	Happiness is a Butterfly

**Author's Note:**

> Hi so Hozier possessed me a couple days ago and now Lana's doing it too. This song made me really feel sad repressed tortured Peter and I'm a sucker for emotional healing through love sooooo here we are lol.  
Like I said in the summary this is set to the song Happiness is a Butterfly by Lana del Rey so give that beautiful ass song a listen for me!
> 
> [Here's the tumblr post with an edit!](https://lacrossepapi.tumblr.com/post/187997240543/happiness-is-a-buttefly)

This was insane. Stiles felt his heart racing as he thought over the last few weeks. He’d returned to Beacon Hills and discovered that it was possible to live a relatively quiet life now that the Nemeton was appeased. That had been a shock on its own, but the larger shock that hit Stiles on his first day home was that the Nemeton was appeased because Peter Hale bound himself to it. Peter, who had always said he only stuck around for Derek and Cora, was now the only pack member to reside there full time. Stiles’ return meant that there was now two pack members in Beacon Hills year round. 

He had rushed to the rebuilt Hale House and discovered Peter sitting in a rocking chair on the porch, a soft gray cardigan around his shoulders and a steaming cup in his hands. Stiles had stumbled at the sight. Peter had always been hot, sexy, fierce, and Stiles had been attracted to that. This Peter on the other hand? Soft, warm, cozy Peter sent a pulse of want down Stiles’ spine too, in a different way but no less strong. 

He had taunted the human for stumbling before welcoming him home with a hug, cheek rubbing affectionately against Stiles’, and a soft ‘I always did like you best Stiles.’ Something in the man had fundamentally changed in the years Stiles had been away, yet Peter was still Peter and Stiles still felt so drawn to him that he couldn’t stop the invitation to dinner from slipping out of his mouth. 

The odd thing was, Peter declined the offer. Peter continued to decline his offers, even though every time Stiles visited the werewolf his actions spoke of a yearning to see and touch Stiles. Muttered things like ‘It is always a pleasure, Stiles.’ and bold statements made with heated eye contact like, ‘I don’t know why you gift me with your presence but I’m grateful.” left Stiles feeling like a ship out to sea. He was being rocked this way and that by Peter’s behavior and knew Peter well enough by now that he knew what the man was doing. 

Stiles checked the time one more time before sending Peter his location, entering the bar, and praying to a god he didn’t believe in. Maybe he’ll be able to save the werewolf from himself. 

_ Do you want me or do you not? _

_ I heard one thing, now I'm hearing another _

_ Dropped a pin to my parking spot _

_ The bar was hot, it's 2 am, it feels like summer _

Stiles nursed his vodka cranberry and pointedly did not look at his phone. If he couldn’t get Peter out of the house then Stiles would content himself to a life indoors. He’d been in love with Peter since he was seventeen. Stilinski’s fall in love fast and they stay there. They had both endured lives so dark, and Stiles had found a light, soothing solace in Peter long before the man had even looked at him twice. Peter did not deny himself simple pleasures, but he did deny himself the pleasures necessary to be healthy. Stiles had noticed it quickly, seeing past all the pompousness and sarcasm. 

Stiles followed the thought process of ‘If I’m miserable all the time, why would I deny myself any happiness I found?” and lived his life accordingly. When he discovered he was falling in love with an older man, who had enough baggage and psychological land mines to bury them both, he didn’t hesitate for a moment. Contentment was so rare in Beacon Hills already and Stiles feel peaceful next to Peter. That’s all that mattered to him in the end. In those moments of peace with Peter, Stiles was able to learn more about the man’s life than he ever thought Peter would give up willingly. 

Peter was a Scorpio, his favorite ice cream flavor was mint moose tracks, and he used to spend his days watching the pack’s children. He was the only teenager in a pack full of adults and babies, and looking at him in the light of Derek’s desk lamp Stiles could see the young man he’d been. Peter had loved taking care of his nephews, nieces, and cousins. He spoke fondly of his aunt Ruby who’d teach him about magic and the world around them while the younger kids slept. Peter had smiled then, the memory still brought butterflies to Stiles’ stomach six years later.

He was starting to get drunk on his nostalgia of a man he thought would love him back one day, and the alcohol burning his throat. 

_ Happiness is a butterfly _

_ Try to catch it like every night _

_ It escapes from my hands into moonlight _

_ Every day is a lullaby _

_ I hum it on the phone like every night _

_ And sing it for my babies on the tour life _

_ Ah ah _

His phone chimed, and Stiles couldn’t resist checking it. 

**Not very smart to send a murderer your location, Bambi.**

Peter made jokes about being a villain, but he was no longer the half-mad man he once was. He’d more than paid for his crimes by now. 

**What could you possibly do to me that hasn’t already been done? Come drink with me.**

Stiles sent the message off before he could rethink it. If Peter was the villain of this story, then Stiles would gladly get caught in his traps. Stiles has had his heart, mind, and body broken and come out the other side stronger. There’s nothing left for Peter to break, not that the werewolf would even try. 

Peter had been alone for at least two years now, wrestling with his guilt and shame on his own. The man that Stiles found waiting at the Hale House was not the same man he’d left there four years ago. His trips back had been so brief the first two years, always full of fighting and fear. He hadn’t even questioned why they called him back less and less the last two years of his degree. Now, he knows though, knows that Peter sacrificed any chance at having a life outside the horrors and traumas he endured here to bring peace to his home land. Now, he knows that he isn’t going anywhere either. Stiles will stay with Peter no matter what. 

The door chime made Stiles glance up, already telling himself there was no way it was Peter, and directly into a pair of sad blue eyes that spoke of grief and fear. 

Peter had actually come to the bar. 

For a moment they stared at each other, both surprised the werewolf was there, before Stiles smiled at Peter and patted the seat beside him. 

_ If he's a serial killer, then what's the worst _

_ That could happen to a girl who's already hurt? _

_ I'm already hurt _

_ If he's as bad as they say, then I guess I'm cursed _

_ Looking into his eyes, I think he's already hurt _

_ He's already hurt _

The bar around them was once loud, now a quiet buzz as all of Stiles’ focus zoomed in on Peter and the wary look he had in that moment. Stiles doesn’t know what to do with the melancholy that clings to Peter, so he does the only thing he knows will work: distracting. Stiles is able to needle Peter until he relaxes and they converse as easily as they would’ve before Peter had been left in solitude with only his inner thoughts as company. Stiles talks of his dad, and Peter informs him that Derek is currently helping an associate of Deaton’s that recently took down a puppy mill. 

They share a smile over a picture of Derek covered in fur and smiling with a freshly shaved poodle in his hands. They share a laugh over a picture of Cora hanging out the window of a jeep, her tongue out and her hair whipping wildly around head, in a jungle somewhere without consistent service. They share a kiss over a vodka cranberry. 

Stiles hadn’t meant to do it, but Peter looked so handsome in the colored fluorescents he couldn’t stop himself. He leaned fully into the kiss, his arm going up onto the bar to support his weight.

He didn’t understand why Peter had jumped back so fast, breaking their kiss abruptly, until he looked down at his now sticky arm. Of course a complete klutz like Stiles would ruin his first kiss with Peter by spilling his drink. At least it didn’t get on either of their clothes. 

When Stiles’ eyes found Peter’s again, the older man wasn’t making eye contact and seemed to be disappointed. Stiles hurriedly apologized for being an idiot and knocking over his drink, but Peter just admonished him for calling himself an idiot. 

The werewolf decided it was time to go, no word of their kiss. Stiles was four vodka cranberries in and more than a little drunk, which meant a tantrum when they got outside. 

Peter really started it by wrapping Stiles in his cardigan before ushering him into a taxi. He refused to let the other man shut the door and part ways. He demanded to know why he couldn’t ride home with Peter. When Peter pointed out that he drove his motorcycle, which Stiles hadn’t even known the man owned, Stiles protested that he wasn’t too drunk to ride on the back. 

“What’s the real problem, Stiles? You’re not like this, even when you are drunk.” Peter’s worry was clear in his breathtaking eyes. 

“I’m not that drunk.” He muttered petulantly, getting out of the taxi. 

When Peter only stared at him, he sighed, “I just wanted to spend more time with you. We could go dancing if you won’t let me ride your motorcycle?” 

Peter smiled sadly at him and shook his head before motioning for Stiles to follow him to Stiles’ Jeep. 

_ I said, "Don't be a jerk, don't call me a taxi" _

_ Sitting in your sweatshirt, crying in the backseat _

_ Ooh _

_ I just wanna dance with you _

_ Hollywood and Vine, Black Rabbit in the alley _

_ I just wanna hold you tight down the avenue _

_ I just wanna dance with you _

_ I just wanna dance with you _

_ Baby, I just wanna dance (dance) _

_ With you (dance) _

_ Baby, I just wanna dance (dance) _

_ With you _

Peter took them to downtown and parked across from Jungle, apprehension noticeable in his movements. A war was being fought in Peter’s mind, and Stiles could only hope things would come out in his favor. They entered the club hand in hand and made their way to the bar, one more shot before show time. Stiles nodded to himself before slipping his fingers between Peter’s and gently pulling the man onto the dance floor. Something in Peter had changed the minute he realized he wasn’t going to back out of this night with Stiles and the events unfolding between them. Gone was the soft, melancholy of a man twice abandoned and left to live with ghost, and in his place was the predator Stiles had first fallen in love with. 

Peter smirked at him before he spun Stiles around and roughly pulled him against the werewolf’s chest. 

“Dance for me, Stiles.” 

The words went straight to Stiles groin, but also to the part of his brain that reveled in Peter’s aggressive behavior. The part of his brain that held tightly onto the memories of Peter’s aggression saving his life more than once. 

The two of them danced until last call and lights up, shuffling out with the other stragglers, the embarrassed grins of new lovers on their faces. 

They drove down the boulevard with their windows down and their hands intertwined. 

_ Left the canyon, drove to the club _

_ I was one thing, now I'm being another _

_ Go down to Sunset in the truck _

_ I'll pick you up if you're in town on the corner _

_ Ah ah _

They made it back to the Hale House and Stiles could see the doubt creeping back into Peter’s eyes. He left the werewolf to over think alone in the Jeep and made his way inside the restored pack house. When Peter finally came inside it seemed like he was about to apologize or something equally unwarranted, so Stiles rushed to inform him that he was indeed allowed to be happy. 

Peter’s shoulders sagged as a breath whooshed out of him in defeat. He made his way over to the couch and sat heavily down next to Stiles. The older man tried to say that Stiles didn’t understand, but the human was more than equipped to understand and handle Peter’s grief. 

“Peter look at me.” Stiles had to repeat himself twice before Peter finally made eye contact. 

“You deserve to be happy. You have paid for your crimes tenfold. Do you honestly believe your family would want you to punish yourself this way?” 

Peter could only choke out his niece’s name before sinking to his knees at Stiles’ feet. The human ran his finger slowly through the werewolf’s hair as he spoke with absolute certainty, “You made a mistake. You regret that night, and you weren’t in control. No, it doesn’t bring her back and it won’t take away your guilt. But Peter that doesn’t mean you should live with the ghosts of your mistakes. Laura wouldn’t want that.” 

Peter’s breathing hitched as Stiles spoke. 

He let the other man grieve in silence for a while before grasping his hand and standing. 

“I think that’s enough for tonight. The Peter Hale I love would never kneel at anyone’s feet.” Peter’s head whipped up to face him, his eyes flashing supernaturally blue, “One last dance before we go to bed, zombiewolf.” 

Stiles smiled at him before pulling out his phone and putting on the first classic slow song he saw. 

He hummed along with Patsy Cline as he placed his hands on Peter’s shoulders and swayed them around the room gently. 

_ Happiness is a butterfly _

_ We should catch it while dancing _

_ I lose myself in the music, baby _

_ Every day is a lullaby _

_ Try to catch it like lightning _

_ I sing it into my music, I'm crazy _

Things aren’t better in one day, but they’re starting the journey to ‘better’ together. And in the end that’s what matters right?

_ If he's a serial killer, then what's the worst _

_ That could happen to a girl who's already hurt? _

_ I'm already hurt _

_ If he's as bad as they say, then I guess I'm cursed _

_ Looking into his eyes, I think he's already hurt _

_ He's already hurt _

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it!


End file.
